


Farewell, Old Friend

by Phoenixflames12



Category: Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Book 8: Written in My Own Heart's Blood, Character Death, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 18:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10972704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenixflames12/pseuds/Phoenixflames12
Summary: 'I married him, as well as thee'- Rachel Hunter (Written in My Own Heart's Blood pg. 1019)Ian and Rachel bury Rollo and mourn the loss of a brother and friend.





	Farewell, Old Friend

**Author's Note:**

> A missing moment from Book 8, which is also attempting to satisfy my love for Ian and Rachel's relationship.

He stands with a stone in his hand, surveying the ground he had chosen.

 

Around him, the trees whisper their farewells, the hush of the wind speaking more than his closed throat ever could. Sycamore, silver birch, aspen, he repeats the name in his mind like a mantra, remembering the long, rambling walks taken with his Father and brothers, listening to them naming the trees around the Lallybroch estate.

 

The stone looks small now, nestled in its shadow against the rise of the red cedar, but he still means to bring the family up here. Rollo had been part of their family too, he thinks; the wounds of his grief rubbed red raw by the memories of being here, deep in the memory that he would never see them again.

 

The stone was as much a memory to the dog as it was to them, that family whom he had lost when the smugglers had brought him up out of the choking, swirling swell by the seal’s cave and thrown him into the hold.

 

In the shadows of the trees, he can just make out Rachel’s shadow, the swing of her dress brushing against the hush of the fallen leaves.

 

 _‘Thee is my wolf’,_ she had told him; her eyes burning bright with hope and happiness in the firelight of their wedding night, the green gown made for her by his mam puddled about her ankles. She had come to him smiling with her dark hair dripping about her face and he had thought that he would not be able to love her more than in that moment.

 

He remembered so much about that night, the small squeak of delight escaping her lips when he had pulled her close, hungry for her touch, the burning of desire in her eyes, the way his blood had shimmered with heat at the sight of her. Remembers the thread of her laces rippling through his fingers, the soft saltiness of her skin as he bent his teeth to nip playfully at her neck.

 

_Thee is my wolf._

Remembered Rollo’s comforting weight, yellow-eyed and watchful at his feet as he had waited for her in the meeting house.  

 

Remembers the iridescent flash of the humming bird, a blur of green and scarlet silver hovering above the honeysuckle that crowned her from the washed wood beams.

 

‘Thee is my wolf. As was he,’ he had not heard her come up behind him. He feels her now though, the light touch of her fingers brushing the smooth bucksin of his waistcoat, grounding him. Her breath is tinted with rain, her swallow an audible attempt at control.

 

He nods, reaching his free hand to grip her own; their fingers twining into each other, skin mingled with dirt and grass and the lingering ghosts of Rollo’s musk.

 

‘ _Mo chu’,_ he whispers, looking down at the grave, swallowing back the catch in his throat that has threatened to choke him since he knelt beside the body of his dog in the first flickers of morning light.

 

Rachel’s hand tightens in his, fingers running carefully over the whorls and callouses that adorn his own. She doesn’t say anything, simply looks down at the grave with its red, rough earth, stark in the fading light. Carinulas would grow here come the spring, he thinks and tansies, and daisies, and wine drenched purple orchids. A fitting bed for his wolf brother, he knows that, but it does not make the wound of his loss any easier to bear.

 

‘He was ready, I think,’ Rachel says into the sudden silence, echoing his own words back at the boarding house, a thousand years ago now. His heart tore at them, the wound red and raw at the fact that he was making her bear what should be his burden alone; but knew that she would not have it any other way.

 

 _‘I married him, as well as thee’,_ she had said, her voice filled with love, eyes pooling with tenderness for man and beast. Her nose had been running then and as he chances a glance at her, he can see that it is still red now; her skin glowing in the dappled light.

 

He nods and reaches for the sgian dhu tucked into his stocking. The hilt is worn and comforting, tucked firmly into his palm, the blade catching a sudden shaft of drawing autumn sunlight. His breath catches in his throat at the sudden bite of steel against skin and she reaches out to grip his arm steady, nodding her consent as she does so.

 

The blood bubbles for a moment; scarlet against the pale tan of the skin and he lets it fall, drop by drop into the deep, red earth, staining the cut stone he had placed there.

 

‘ _Beannachd leat, a charaid_ ’, he says again, voice catching in a gust of wind and foxtails. _Goodbye, old friend._

He turns to Rachel, feeling sudden shards of salt smart at the corners of his eyelids. She nods, standing tall as a willow sapling, her bare wrist outstretched in understanding.

 

 _‘Mo ghraidh_ ’, he whispers in question and she nods, eyes shining. Her breath is audible, hitched and shattered in the silence as he draws the blade lightly across the skin.

 

By the fading light dappled through the cedar leaves, they watch the blood fall to earth like the hesitant drops heralding the beginning of rain.

 

* * *

 

_**Fin** _

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to read and review!
> 
> Comments, suggestions, questions, constructive criticisms etc are like chocolate to my brain!
> 
> Much love and enjoy x
> 
> Song suggestion: Leave the Past Behind (Outlander Season 2 OST)


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